10-09-2025, 12:25 AM
Chapter continued......
The rain hammered on the metal roof above them, a loud noise that closed them off from everything else. Meera was totally aware of Arjun standing next to her. He was so close on her left side that she could feel the heat coming from his body. It was a warm force against the cold of her soaked skin. The space between them felt alive and tense. She wanted him to check his phone. She needed him to see the picture of the lavender. She needed him to understand what she was offering him.
A strong wind blew, sending a cold spray of rain under their small shelter. Meera gasped as the water hit her. Her already wet saree stuck to her body even more. The thin chiffon was like a second skin, plastered to her hips and showing every curve. She knew he was watching. She wanted him to be watching. She needed his eyes on her, on the show she was putting on just for him.
He still wasn't touching her. The nearness was painful. She turned her head slowly to look at him. He was rubbing a hand through his wet hair. The move made the muscles in his arm flex under his soaked grey t-shirt. The shirt was stuck to him, almost see-through in places. It clung to the hard lines of his chest and stomach. He felt her looking and turned his head. His eyes met hers.
The dull look was gone. Completely. Now his eyes held a raw, intense spark that made her breath stop. Raindrops hung from the tip of his nose and his eyelashes. She watched one drop slide down his cheek. She felt a drop fall from her own chin, tracing a path down her neck and into the dip of her throat. He wasn't just looking at her face. His eyes moved over her drenched body like a physical touch. She looked down at herself.
The wetness made her saree see-through. The blue chiffon was dark and heavy with water, clinging to her skin. The top of her breasts were exposed, the skin there shiny with rainwater. Every drop that landed on her chest seemed to sizzles. Her heart beat hard against her ribs, a fast rhythm matching the rain on the roof. Her wet hair was stuck to her neck and back, dripping cold water down her spine, but it did nothing to cool the heat growing deep inside her.
A small, sexy smile touched her lips without her meaning it to. It was a reaction to the pure want she saw in his eyes. But she could still feel him holding back, a slight stiffness in how he stood. She needed to break it.
She turned her body slowly, presenting her back to him. She tilted her face just enough to keep him in the corner of her eye. Then, she leaned back. It was a small move, but she meant it. She closed the tiny space between them until the wet strands of her hair brushed against the bare skin of his upper arm. The heat of his body through that damp contact was a shock against her cold skin. Her heartbeat was wild and loud in her ears. Every nerve in her body was screaming, totally aware of how close he was.
She leaned her head back slightly towards him. Her voice came out as a husky, breathy whisper, barely heard over the rain. "Arjun...." His name was a beg, a question. A hard shiver racked her body, starting deep in her core and shaking outwards. "Did you... did you see my message?" The words were broken, pushed out from her trembling lips.
The question seemed to shake him. He reached for his phone, moving fast. As he pulled it from his pocket, his elbow brushed against the small of her back. The touch, even through the wet fabric, sent a wild, electric jolt through her. She gasped, her eyes closing for a second.
She heard the soft click of his phone unlocking. She saw the glow of the screen light up his face in the dim light. There was a moment of silence, then a low, breathy whisper right next to her ear, so close she felt his warm breath.
"Ohh, Meera..."
She turned her head. Their eyes met again. The want in his was now a burning fire. "Arjun, please..." she whispered, her voice thick with need, before turning her face forward again, unable to take the strength of his look.
"It's your, Chandrika." Her voice was broken, rough with feeling.
He moved closer. The back of his right hand, warm and a little rough, came to rest against the wet chiffon covering the soft, full curve of her left buttock. The touch was light, a graze, but it burned through the wet fabric.
"Chandrikaaa." Her name was a sensual sigh from his lips.
Meera’s hands, which had been hanging at her sides, began to move. With shaking, clumsy movements, she reached behind her for the free end of her wet saree. She gathered the heavy, soaked fabric, her fingers trembling. Slowly, on purpose, she brought it around to her front and dbangd it over her shoulder. The action pulled the wet saree tighter across her back and hips, making her curves more obvious. It left the whole expanse of her back, and the full swell of her buttocks, completely open to him. It was a silent, clear offering.
"Chandrikaaa." He said it again, his voice lower, huskier, filled with an awe and desire that made her knees feel weak.
The back of his hand pressed more firmly against her now. Not a graze, but a firm, possessive press into the soft flesh of her left buttock. Her breath hitched, coming in fast, shallow pants. Her shivering got worse, becoming uncontrollable. She felt a distinct, warm pooling of wetness between her legs, a hot contrast to the cold rain on her skin.
He deliberately turned his hand. His palm, now warm and flat, came to rest fully on her buttock. The sudden, intimate contact made her jump. A small, choked gasp escaped her lips.
He didn't take his hand away. Instead, he started to move it. Gently, his palm explored the curve of her right buttock. His fingers spread out, pointing down. She felt his fingers gently take a handful of the soft flesh through the wet saree, squeezing with a tenderness that was incredibly erotic. He's feeling my shape... he's learning the curve of me... The thought sent another violent tremor through her.
She closed her eyes, giving in to the feeling. She took a deep, ragged breath through her mouth, her chest rising and falling fast. Her nipples, already hard from the cold, were now painfully tight, aching with a need that echoed deep inside her.
His palm kept moving, grazing over her soft flesh. She could feel his hand trembling against her. "Chandrikaa," he whispered again, his voice thick.
Then she felt it. His fingers, tracing. They weren't just on her buttock anymore. They were tracing the edge of her lavender lace panty. She could feel the clear line of the lace through the soaked chiffon. His fingertips were following it, exploring the border between the lace and her skin. The touch was exquisite, driving her crazy. His little finger moved lower, brushing against the sensitive, clothed skin of her inner thigh, dangerously close to her center. Then it drifted up, tracing the deep, sensual cleft between her buttocks over the fabric. A slow, deliberate move along that intimate valley.
She was dripping inside, a hot, slick wetness in her pussy, that had nothing to do with the rain. "My Chandrikaaaa," Arjun moaned, the sound raw and filled with a need that matched her own.
She stood frozen, lost in the sensation, her eyes squeezed shut. A small, helpless moan escaped her.
"Chandrikaaa." This time, he lowered his head. His lips were inches from her ear, his warm breath washing over the rain-cooled skin of her neck and shoulder. The contrast was electric. She felt goosebumps erupt all over her skin, a visible reaction to his nearness. The fine hairs on her arms and the back of her neck stood up.
"Aa... Arjun..." Her words were broken, her breathing deep and ragged, each inhale a shaking effort.
He raised his left hand and placed it on her bare shoulder. His palm was warm, almost hot, against her cold, wet skin. The contact was so intimate, so possessive, it made her gasp. "Ssshhhh..." a gentle, involuntary moan slipped out.
Another gust of wind blew, spraying them with a fresh mist of cold rain. But Meera barely felt the cold. All she felt was the heat—the heat of his hand on her shoulder, the heat of his palm on her buttock, the heat building inside her.
Arjun slowly used the hand on her shoulder to move the wet, tangled strands of her hair away from her back. His fingers grazed the skin of her upper back, where her blouse was cut low. The touch was light, almost worshipful, but it sent shivers of pure sensation down her spine.
All the while, his right hand continued its gentle, maddening exploration on her buttock. He gently grabbed her right cheek again, his palm cupping her fully. "Ohhh, my Chandrika," he breathed, and then she felt him lean forward.
His lips touched the skin of her shoulder. Not a kiss, at first, just the press of his warm, soft lips against her wet, cool skin. "Aahhh!" Meera moaned, the sound louder this time, lost in the noise of the rain. The heat of his lips and his breath spread through her skin like a fire.
He kissed her shoulder again, this time a little harder, and his hand on her buttock squeezed more firmly, possessively. Her inner muscles clenched in response, the dripping wetness between her legs becoming impossible to ignore. This part of me is his. Right now, he owns me.
The heavy downpour was finally starting to ease, becoming a gentle patter. The world was starting to come back.
"Chandrika, thank you so much, chandrika," he whispered, his hands still moving on her, his voice filled with a gratitude that was deeply sensual.
The spell was breaking. Reality was seeping back in with the fading rain. "Need to go now, Arjun," she said, her voice hoarse. She pulled herself forward slightly, breaking the contact of his hand on her buttock, creating a small, necessary gap between them.
She turned her head sideways to meet his eyes. The lust was still there, blazing in both their looks, a shared secret now burned into their memory. They stared at each other for a long moment, breathing heavily.
"Never be dull again, Arjun," she whispered, her voice firm despite its huskiness.
He smiled at her, a slow, deep smile that held all the promise and desire of the last few minutes. He nodded his head. "I won't be."
"The rain has stopped. We need to go now, Arjun." She knew it was agony to leave this bubble, to step back into the world where they were just colleagues, but they had to.
She started walking away from the shed, her legs feeling weak and unsteady. Arjun followed a few steps behind, a respectful distance once more. As they emerged, they saw that most of the guests had tentatively returned to their seats in the open lawn, the air fresh and clean after the rain. Nobody seemed to pay them any special attention. They had been invisible in their private storm. But as Meera walked, she could still feel the ghost of his warm palm on her buttock, the brand of his lips on her shoulder, and the thrilling, terrifying knowledge that a line had been irrevocably crossed.
The rain hammered on the metal roof above them, a loud noise that closed them off from everything else. Meera was totally aware of Arjun standing next to her. He was so close on her left side that she could feel the heat coming from his body. It was a warm force against the cold of her soaked skin. The space between them felt alive and tense. She wanted him to check his phone. She needed him to see the picture of the lavender. She needed him to understand what she was offering him.
A strong wind blew, sending a cold spray of rain under their small shelter. Meera gasped as the water hit her. Her already wet saree stuck to her body even more. The thin chiffon was like a second skin, plastered to her hips and showing every curve. She knew he was watching. She wanted him to be watching. She needed his eyes on her, on the show she was putting on just for him.
He still wasn't touching her. The nearness was painful. She turned her head slowly to look at him. He was rubbing a hand through his wet hair. The move made the muscles in his arm flex under his soaked grey t-shirt. The shirt was stuck to him, almost see-through in places. It clung to the hard lines of his chest and stomach. He felt her looking and turned his head. His eyes met hers.
The dull look was gone. Completely. Now his eyes held a raw, intense spark that made her breath stop. Raindrops hung from the tip of his nose and his eyelashes. She watched one drop slide down his cheek. She felt a drop fall from her own chin, tracing a path down her neck and into the dip of her throat. He wasn't just looking at her face. His eyes moved over her drenched body like a physical touch. She looked down at herself.
The wetness made her saree see-through. The blue chiffon was dark and heavy with water, clinging to her skin. The top of her breasts were exposed, the skin there shiny with rainwater. Every drop that landed on her chest seemed to sizzles. Her heart beat hard against her ribs, a fast rhythm matching the rain on the roof. Her wet hair was stuck to her neck and back, dripping cold water down her spine, but it did nothing to cool the heat growing deep inside her.
A small, sexy smile touched her lips without her meaning it to. It was a reaction to the pure want she saw in his eyes. But she could still feel him holding back, a slight stiffness in how he stood. She needed to break it.
She turned her body slowly, presenting her back to him. She tilted her face just enough to keep him in the corner of her eye. Then, she leaned back. It was a small move, but she meant it. She closed the tiny space between them until the wet strands of her hair brushed against the bare skin of his upper arm. The heat of his body through that damp contact was a shock against her cold skin. Her heartbeat was wild and loud in her ears. Every nerve in her body was screaming, totally aware of how close he was.
She leaned her head back slightly towards him. Her voice came out as a husky, breathy whisper, barely heard over the rain. "Arjun...." His name was a beg, a question. A hard shiver racked her body, starting deep in her core and shaking outwards. "Did you... did you see my message?" The words were broken, pushed out from her trembling lips.
The question seemed to shake him. He reached for his phone, moving fast. As he pulled it from his pocket, his elbow brushed against the small of her back. The touch, even through the wet fabric, sent a wild, electric jolt through her. She gasped, her eyes closing for a second.
She heard the soft click of his phone unlocking. She saw the glow of the screen light up his face in the dim light. There was a moment of silence, then a low, breathy whisper right next to her ear, so close she felt his warm breath.
"Ohh, Meera..."
She turned her head. Their eyes met again. The want in his was now a burning fire. "Arjun, please..." she whispered, her voice thick with need, before turning her face forward again, unable to take the strength of his look.
"It's your, Chandrika." Her voice was broken, rough with feeling.
He moved closer. The back of his right hand, warm and a little rough, came to rest against the wet chiffon covering the soft, full curve of her left buttock. The touch was light, a graze, but it burned through the wet fabric.
"Chandrikaaa." Her name was a sensual sigh from his lips.
Meera’s hands, which had been hanging at her sides, began to move. With shaking, clumsy movements, she reached behind her for the free end of her wet saree. She gathered the heavy, soaked fabric, her fingers trembling. Slowly, on purpose, she brought it around to her front and dbangd it over her shoulder. The action pulled the wet saree tighter across her back and hips, making her curves more obvious. It left the whole expanse of her back, and the full swell of her buttocks, completely open to him. It was a silent, clear offering.
"Chandrikaaa." He said it again, his voice lower, huskier, filled with an awe and desire that made her knees feel weak.
The back of his hand pressed more firmly against her now. Not a graze, but a firm, possessive press into the soft flesh of her left buttock. Her breath hitched, coming in fast, shallow pants. Her shivering got worse, becoming uncontrollable. She felt a distinct, warm pooling of wetness between her legs, a hot contrast to the cold rain on her skin.
He deliberately turned his hand. His palm, now warm and flat, came to rest fully on her buttock. The sudden, intimate contact made her jump. A small, choked gasp escaped her lips.
He didn't take his hand away. Instead, he started to move it. Gently, his palm explored the curve of her right buttock. His fingers spread out, pointing down. She felt his fingers gently take a handful of the soft flesh through the wet saree, squeezing with a tenderness that was incredibly erotic. He's feeling my shape... he's learning the curve of me... The thought sent another violent tremor through her.
She closed her eyes, giving in to the feeling. She took a deep, ragged breath through her mouth, her chest rising and falling fast. Her nipples, already hard from the cold, were now painfully tight, aching with a need that echoed deep inside her.
His palm kept moving, grazing over her soft flesh. She could feel his hand trembling against her. "Chandrikaa," he whispered again, his voice thick.
Then she felt it. His fingers, tracing. They weren't just on her buttock anymore. They were tracing the edge of her lavender lace panty. She could feel the clear line of the lace through the soaked chiffon. His fingertips were following it, exploring the border between the lace and her skin. The touch was exquisite, driving her crazy. His little finger moved lower, brushing against the sensitive, clothed skin of her inner thigh, dangerously close to her center. Then it drifted up, tracing the deep, sensual cleft between her buttocks over the fabric. A slow, deliberate move along that intimate valley.
She was dripping inside, a hot, slick wetness in her pussy, that had nothing to do with the rain. "My Chandrikaaaa," Arjun moaned, the sound raw and filled with a need that matched her own.
She stood frozen, lost in the sensation, her eyes squeezed shut. A small, helpless moan escaped her.
"Chandrikaaa." This time, he lowered his head. His lips were inches from her ear, his warm breath washing over the rain-cooled skin of her neck and shoulder. The contrast was electric. She felt goosebumps erupt all over her skin, a visible reaction to his nearness. The fine hairs on her arms and the back of her neck stood up.
"Aa... Arjun..." Her words were broken, her breathing deep and ragged, each inhale a shaking effort.
He raised his left hand and placed it on her bare shoulder. His palm was warm, almost hot, against her cold, wet skin. The contact was so intimate, so possessive, it made her gasp. "Ssshhhh..." a gentle, involuntary moan slipped out.
Another gust of wind blew, spraying them with a fresh mist of cold rain. But Meera barely felt the cold. All she felt was the heat—the heat of his hand on her shoulder, the heat of his palm on her buttock, the heat building inside her.
Arjun slowly used the hand on her shoulder to move the wet, tangled strands of her hair away from her back. His fingers grazed the skin of her upper back, where her blouse was cut low. The touch was light, almost worshipful, but it sent shivers of pure sensation down her spine.
All the while, his right hand continued its gentle, maddening exploration on her buttock. He gently grabbed her right cheek again, his palm cupping her fully. "Ohhh, my Chandrika," he breathed, and then she felt him lean forward.
His lips touched the skin of her shoulder. Not a kiss, at first, just the press of his warm, soft lips against her wet, cool skin. "Aahhh!" Meera moaned, the sound louder this time, lost in the noise of the rain. The heat of his lips and his breath spread through her skin like a fire.
He kissed her shoulder again, this time a little harder, and his hand on her buttock squeezed more firmly, possessively. Her inner muscles clenched in response, the dripping wetness between her legs becoming impossible to ignore. This part of me is his. Right now, he owns me.
The heavy downpour was finally starting to ease, becoming a gentle patter. The world was starting to come back.
"Chandrika, thank you so much, chandrika," he whispered, his hands still moving on her, his voice filled with a gratitude that was deeply sensual.
The spell was breaking. Reality was seeping back in with the fading rain. "Need to go now, Arjun," she said, her voice hoarse. She pulled herself forward slightly, breaking the contact of his hand on her buttock, creating a small, necessary gap between them.
She turned her head sideways to meet his eyes. The lust was still there, blazing in both their looks, a shared secret now burned into their memory. They stared at each other for a long moment, breathing heavily.
"Never be dull again, Arjun," she whispered, her voice firm despite its huskiness.
He smiled at her, a slow, deep smile that held all the promise and desire of the last few minutes. He nodded his head. "I won't be."
"The rain has stopped. We need to go now, Arjun." She knew it was agony to leave this bubble, to step back into the world where they were just colleagues, but they had to.
She started walking away from the shed, her legs feeling weak and unsteady. Arjun followed a few steps behind, a respectful distance once more. As they emerged, they saw that most of the guests had tentatively returned to their seats in the open lawn, the air fresh and clean after the rain. Nobody seemed to pay them any special attention. They had been invisible in their private storm. But as Meera walked, she could still feel the ghost of his warm palm on her buttock, the brand of his lips on her shoulder, and the thrilling, terrifying knowledge that a line had been irrevocably crossed.